Not the end
by Luna-Rose Lestrade
Summary: Crossover of Doctor who, Merlin, Harry Potter and Sherlock. During their darkest moments, a friendly stranger appears and gives them a much needed to talk when all seems lost.


**Happy Easter! I'm posting stories to celebrate and also because I have nothing else to do with them. Yay! I had this idea for a crossover ages ago and never thought of posting it until now so please let me know what you think and review. **

**Just to put the offer up, I have been considering extending or adding a sequel when the characters either look back on the Doctor's advice and appreciate what he said when all is well or try to return the favour to him but...I don't know if it's worth it yet...it depends if anyone wants it. **

**Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

**Not the End**

The wind whispered to him in the silence. He had failed.

The trees were still in recognition of his sadness and the fate that had now fallen over the land. The grass whipped around him in comfort but he was unaware of any of this, his eyes hazy and unfocused as he was lost in the past.

Why? He had tried so hard. He had done everything that was asked of him. And still he failed. His once great destiny. The very idea would have made him laugh had all signs of happiness not faded from him. He was left empty, exposed to the raw feeling of sadness and loathing. He had been told, oh so many times, that he was important, destined to protect the king and bring together the disbanded kingdoms in a much needed union, to join the world of magic to that of the men who had feared it. Now that was impossible. It had all been a lie. He had failed.

Arthur lay dead, so close to his revival yet so far. It wasn't fair! Merlin had tried so hard, fought for so long. He deserved some reward or success didn't he? No. Definitely not now. Not when all he had worked for was gone. Not when so many he cared about had died for him.

He leaned back against the tree he was seated in front of. He wasn't going to return to Camelot. He couldn't face any of them. He couldn't face the knights, Gauis, Gwen. It was all his fault. He didn't deserve them anymore. He had failed.

A strange wheezing noise erupted through the forest. And for some reason, despite his loss, his heart leapt at the sound as though hope was spreading through him, some contentment that it was not over. Not yet.

* * *

221B Baker street was empty. Not of furniture, not of chairs and tables, beds and baths, kitchens, and rooms. Not of any of these things. It was empty of life. The life that had used to be here. The laughter that had used to grace the walls, the voices, the arguing, the friendship, all gone. There was nothing here. It stood sad and abandoned, void of hope and future.

John stood at the door, hands shaking on the key that he had placed in the lock. The cool wind ruffled his hair and blew his jacket around him but he did not acknowledge it or pull the jacket tighter around him. His face was grim and hard, his eyes blankly staring at the number on the door. He tried to steel himself into entering but he could not do it.

Sherlock Holmes was dead. His body cracked and broken from his fall from the roof of St. Barts. But his fall had also left John broken. He had gotten his life back with Sherlock Holmes, he had gotten a purpose and a friend. Now that was all shattering before him. Moriarty had won. Sherlock was dead.

John pulled back the key and turned away. He couldn't return to that place, maybe not ever. It was haunted by ghosts. He turned the corner, not paying attention much to what was around him. As a result, he did not hear the strange wheezing noise that was so out of place in London, the blue light like a beacon on the vacant road, or the bright blue box that materialised miraculously. What finally got his attention was the man in a brown pin-striped suit standing in his way, long brown coat billowing around him. The strange man held out his hand to John.

* * *

The dormitory was empty, just the way he liked it. He didn't like the pitying looks he received from the other boys. He wasn't weak. He was mourning.

The occasional patter of footsteps on the stairs outside signalled the last students making their way down for the last feast of term. What was there to look forwards to now? He shouldn't be leaving. Not now. It wasn't fair. His only family, his only hope of a happy life, gone. Why did all this happen to him? He never asked for any of this. He didn't want anyone to die for him. His mum, his dad and now Sirius. Sirius who was damaged but always smiling, lonely but always chatting, absent but always there. Sirius had already lost so much of his life that he needed back and now never would. He had been the light at the end of the tunnel, at the end of the darkest days, after all the loss and pain he would be there to make it alright.

Harry sat numbly on the side of the bed, staring unseeingly across the room. He had hardly moved in a few days. He could see how worried his friends were but he found he didn't care. He didn't want this anymore. He never asked to be the chosen one. He didn't want anymore death.

Suddenly there was a loud wheezing noise and a great gust of air that filled the dormitory. Out of nowhere, as if by magic, a large blue box materialised. Harry rubbed his eyes in disbelief. It looked like an old muggle police box but that was impossible. Slowly, the door opened, a hopeful golden light flowing from it.

* * *

Everything was a faint white and the scene shifted slightly like everything was amerced in a thick fog, even them. The three sat on a solid white block that would have blended into the surrounding, lost from sight, had they not known it was there. This realm had burst into existence around them but none of them felt scared, just a bit confused.

In the corner, or what may have been a corner, a blue box stood, humming softly in a reassuring way. A man wearing a pinstriped suit and long brown coat stood before them, hands buried in his pockets, surveying them calmly.

They all just stared at each other. John was surprised to see these young boys sitting beside them but had the same air of loss about them that he found comforting then guilty. What had they lost at such a young age?

Merlin was wary at first, wondering if this was a punishment for his failings or some trap from the old religion. The older man beside him had eyes full of loss and the boy also. They wore strange clothing and seemed as confused as he was but at ease.

Harry had immediately thought that this was some ploy from Voldemort. As if the life of Sirius wasn't enough to quench that merciless wizard's bloodlust. But no…These men seemed alright. They shared his pain, and his confusion.

The man in front of them removed his hands from his pockets and held them by his side instead. The sudden movement after the stillness caught the three's attention.

"Merlin, John, Harry," The man looked each in the eyes as he spoke their name, "My name is the Doctor and I'm here to help."

They stared blankly at him, awaiting an explanation. When he didn't John prompted him.

"Why are we here? How are we here?" None of this made sense, him being the only one with no knowledge of magic or the impossible but he did know the impossible. He had known Sherlock Holmes.

"You are all here because you need to be," He told them softly, choosing his words carefully, "You have all faced terrible losses that you should not have faced. I know that it doesn't seem like it now but it will change in time and your lives will right themselves."

They seemed unconvinced.

"It is tough times that you face and it will seem that no one understands and that you are alone but it is important to know that you are not. You are not alone. As dark as the days get, as hopeless as the way ahead seems, as lonely your paths seem, know that there is something miraculous waiting for you something that will brighten your days and make the journey worthwhile. It won't stop the pain completely but it helps you accept it. And that is all you need: not to forget but to forgive. To forgive yourselves. You can't give up. Not now, not ever."

"Why? Why us?" Harry asked.

"Because you're special," he replied.

"I'm sick of people thinking that." Harry muttered.

"And because you're just like everyone else." The doctor continued.

That brought the three into silence once more.

"There is such a weight on your shoulders. John you have been through so much in the war, so much bloodshed that you cannot face another death so that is what life hands you. People expect you to move on, believe Sherlock was a fake but you must stay strong. Don't forget; don't leave it behind, not yet. And for what it's worth: I believe in Sherlock." John partially brightened at this. He didn't know who this strange man was but the fact that he had someone else on his side when the world was against him gave him hope that others would come to their senses. This man also seemed strangely powerful and full of greatness so that approval and support from him seemed honourable and that he could not possible be wrong.

"Harry, so much expectation relies on you, the saving of the wizarding world-"

"Wizarding?" John question, stunned but the Doctor continued without explanation.

"A great prophesy was placed on your shoulders from the moment of your birth and confirmed at the death of your parents. You shouldn't have lost them and the only one to blame for their deaths and the deaths of everyone since and everyone to come is on his shoulders not yours. I know you will blame yourself anyway because you are noble and modest. You have too much doubt. Believe in yourself. I, along with all the wizarding community and most importantly your friends, believe in you. Rely on your instinct and your heart. Sirius loved you so much and would not want you to throw away your life for him. Not after all he went through to keep you safe. Keep your friends close and just remember: you are still a kid, act like one once in a while." Harry mulled those words over and fell into a silence, not as sullen as before. The prospect of more death did not comfort him but that someone had such confidence in him but understood that he had to face it; he began to think that he might be able to do this after all. This stranger was right. Sirius wouldn't want him to give up. A ghost of a smile tried to form on his face as he imagined Sirius's stubborn face, encouraging him, telling him stories that they could laugh about.

"Merlin," The Doctor said finally, "Destinies are rarely fair and have a way of twisting themselves. I know that this is not what you expected or what you deserve but you have worked so hard. You're nearly there. Secrets can tear you apart the longer you hold them. Now that time is over and a new era is about to begin. Don't leave your friends. They need you more than ever right now as you need them. You carry too much blame for yourself. It's time you started to live the way you should, without hiding or fear, with your friends." Merlin could not see how that would be possible. He had still lost Arthur, failed them. How could he look Gwen in the eye? How could he explain everything to them, what he was, who he is? There was some truth in his words. Destinies ruined everything. It was all over now. But at least he no longer had to hide who he was. He had magic, was magic, and that was out now. He could be himself for once in his life and never forget the journey, never forget Arthur.

"You'll see them again," the Doctor told them certainly.

"He fell through the veil. He's gone forever."

"Sherlock Holmes is dead."

"I failed."

"One more meeting. But I'm afraid your journey hasn't even begun yet. There will be so much more sacrifice to come," The doctor's eyes turned regretful as though this was the last thing he wished he were telling the young boy before him, "Don't give up and don't lose faith."

"John it is definitely not the end," The Doctor seemed to be containing a smile, "Do not worry. You won't be alone for much longer."

"Merlin," He said softly, "You did not fail. Far from it. Those who sit beside you are living proof of it. You helped shape this world more than you know and your destiny was not a failure or a lie. As for the end? Well, your journey is still going. It has not ended, not yet. You still have a king to protect, if you are patient."

He gave them all a small smile that held more warmth and reassurance than any other. It gave them all hope that they could indeed get through this like he said and he spoke with the deepest truth. He couldn't lie, not to them.

Turning his back, he began to retreat from this empty realm, his long brown cloak billowing behind you. The others remained silent, lost in his words. Then Merlin pulled himself from his thoughts and eyed the Doctor's back. Why was he helping them? He had to have some reason. And his understanding of loss. It was more than just friendliness or support.

"What about you Doctor?" Merlin asked, looking up at the man, "Who did you lose?"

Immediately the man's eyes turned sad, like so much loss and sorrow was hidden deep within. It was such a contrast from the supportive, hopeful man they had been talking to moments before. The transformation was heartbreaking. So much emotion contained. To stop others seeing. To stop others knowing. All to prevent others knowing the same pain that he did.

"I didn't lose her," his voice no more than a whisper, "I gave her up."

* * *

Harry sat on his bed, his heart felt considerably lighter. He would keep going for his mum, his dad, for Sirius, for all those who had been lost at the hands of Voldemort. There was a creak in the doorway and Harry's head snapped round to see.

"Harry," Ron's voice said cautiously, "Are you coming down to the feast?"

"No," came the reply automatically, "I'm not hungry."

"Me either," Ron said, moving further into the room. An obvious lie. Ron was always hungry. Harry thought back to what had happened. Not the end.

"No, it's okay," Harry told him, "You go down. I'll be there in a minute."

Ron smiled at him before leaving the room.

Harry swept his gaze around the room. It was empty of any blue boxes or white mist. He considered whether that had all happened or if it had all been happening inside his head. It didn't matter, he decided.

He pushed himself from the bed and headed to the door. With one last look into the room, trunks packed, beds made, he left. Time to move on. Time to keep fighting.

* * *

John snapped back to his senses as a passer by barged past him in a hurry. Acknowledgement flickered across the person's features but they were too far down the street to do anything of it.

John continued more slowly down the street. Had all that happened? What had happened? His mind flicked back to the big picture. Sherlock was dead. But not gone. Never gone as long as he was remembered for who he was.

John's pace grew stronger. He wasn't going to return to 221B. He couldn't. That didn't mean that he wasn't going to return to life. Time to stop waiting for Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

Merlin shot to his feet as if he had been jabbed with something from behind. He scanned the clearing with panic. Then his senses came back to him and he calmed down.

His mind was spinning from what had just happened. Not the end? How? Merlin did not know how anything could possibly right itself but prayed that the strange man-The Doctor- was right. He glanced at the sky then chose his path in the forest. The path back to Camelot. He could face them. He didn't deserve it but they did. They needed to know and he would explain everything to them.

Arthur was gone but maybe not forever, not as long as his Kingdom needed him. Merlin was heading home.

* * *

The doctor stepped into the TARDIS, it hummed softly in welcome as he approached the console. He stared blankly at the controls lost in thoughts.

The TARDIS whirred impatiently. He glanced up at it. It was time to move on. They had to keep moving and not look back because they couldn't. The man in his blue box, the universe at their fingertips but forever running. They were running from the past.

He flicked some controls, not fully paying attention to what he was doing and the centre piece began to glow and raise up and down rhythmically, as though breathing.

It hummed softly to him and he glanced up. It hummed again as though talking to him, asking why he had talked to those people that he had no link with, no duty to or reason to help.

"They were having a rough time, I only talked to them. That's sometimes all that's needed," He reasoned. The TARDIS was not convinced. He hadn't only talked. He had revealed hints of the future. Spoilers. It repeated the question and he sighed.

"I helped them because they were like me," he told her exasperatedly, "They had lost so much but they still had something to hang onto which is something I don't have. Can never have. They were good people who did not deserve all that had happened to them." He paused, considering the question properly.

"I helped them because I know what it's like to be alone and that is a fate that should not befall anyone. I did it to save them. I did it because they understood but never will."

The TARDIS hummed sympathetically.

"I told them what they needed to hear and what I wanted to."

He turned back to the console, twisting dial and pressing buttons at seemingly random but with purpose. He was setting the co-ordinates for the planet of the Ood. They had called him urgently to see them but he had been putting it off for a long time, diverting his path and getting distracted. He had all the reason to avoid the meeting. Last time he had seen the Ood they had told him that his song was ending.

"It's not the end because sometimes you can't allow it to be," He continued defiantly.

He flicked a lever and the TARDIS began groaning and shaking out of control.

"Time to stop running."


End file.
